


Blood Wine

by HalloweenBae



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 02:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalloweenBae/pseuds/HalloweenBae
Summary: So this is an original story with original characters, but the male is modeled after Tom Payne with short hair. Enjoy.





	Blood Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annablack1102](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annablack1102/gifts).

Dark was the night as she walked out onto the patio, the aged wood creaking with each step she took away from the blaring music of the club. A heavy fog replaced the noise, though, blanketing the air above her like a sticky wool sweater she didn’t have the heart to remove. Cicadas cried out in a deafening chorus, their screeching cacophony ringing in her ears as the blaring music died down. She took a few breaths in, realizing she was replacing one constant noise for another, and took a sip of her wine.

She paused for a second; a looming feeling washing over her before she turned to see what was causing it. That feeling of being watched, and not just by the bartender at the door, made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. 

“First time?” His voice was frigid, cutting through the heat like sharp steel as his footsteps got closer.

“That obvious, huh?” she answered, turning to face him. 

“A little,” he started, his beautiful blue eyes shining a hint of green in the Edison bulbs of the patio. “I’ve just never seen you here before, and this isn’t really a place where girls come to celebrate their bachelorette parties, if you know what I mean.”

He grinned at her slowly, beautiful skin practically glowing against that smile that was just as charming as it was dangerous. He gave her time to take it all in: the light in his eyes, the translucence of his skin and the similar dental work of everyone else in the club beyond that door.

Her hands began to shake at the sight of him, her heart pumping blood through her veins quicker than she thought possible as her glass dropped to the floor in a glittering mess. Was he…? Were they…? No, it couldn’t be! These people were probably just really big Anne Rice fans. After all, she was in New Orleans visiting her friend. Vampires were just a joke… a myth. They weren’t real, were they?

She laughed nervously and took a step toward the door, but he was upon her before she could even blink, phasing through the thick Louisiana heat faster than light. Oh shit, she thought, maybe vampires were real.

“How did you…?” she trailed off, looking around the patio while a dozen questions ran through her brain. She made eye contact with the bartender who didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by this man or his sudden movements. “What...?” her words began to fail her as the adrenaline took over.

“Have you put it together yet?” His full lips curled into a smile, his sharp canines glistening in the moonlight.

She blinked a couple of times, hoping that with each blink he’d become more human. She hoped that his ethereal existence would fade away with each blink like the letters on a piece of paper in an eye exam. Better one, or two? Three or four? But it was no use. No matter how many times she blinked, he was still there; sandy brown hair falling lazily in front of bright blue eyes that seemed to actually glow as he looked at her hungrily. 

Maybe she was in a dream. Maybe she should just accept that and see how this all played out until her alarm clock finally woke her. “Of course,” she muttered, “Of course, you’re a…”

He raised an eyebrow, twisting his handsome face in an expectant expression. “A vampire,” he coached.

She laughed. “Okay,” she shook her head in disbelief, walking over to the bench in front of the bar to take a load off. If she was going to entertain this idea, she may as well do it sitting down. “Why would my friend bring me here, then? If she knows that you exist, and that this place is…”

“Myra?” He nodded toward the club, an amused look on his face. “Red hair?” He licked his lips, “She’s been here before, a couple of times, actually.” He sat down next to her on the bench.

Myra?! Her seemingly innocent friend was into… whatever this was? And brought her here to get into it with her? But just… left her to her own devices? Wait a minute, where was Myra, anyways?

“Relax,” he whispered, softly snaking his fingertips down her arm. “She’ll be fine. She always is,” he reassured her, tracing his fingers in little circles around her wrist. 

“She is?” She gulped, trying to ignore the little jolts of pleasure his fingertips were sending through her body.

“Amelia always takes good care of her,” he confirmed, exciting a fire in her brain before wrapping his fingers tightly around her arm. “Just like I’ll take good care of you,” he whispered into her ear, making that fire burn just a bit brighter.

“Umm… I don’t know if I can,” she trailed off, feeling his breath on her neck. 

“Trust me,” he argued, inhaling the scent of her skin as his teeth barely scraped over her jugular. “I’ll only take a little, I promise,” he said, licking the length of her neck.

“Only a little?” She barely let out, her chest heaving in excitement.

“I’ll give you what you want… you give me what I want.” His opposite hand slid between her legs, separating her thighs with his thumb and pinky to massage her swelling center.

“Oh god,” she swallowed hard. “I don’t even know your name,” she muttered breathlessly.

“Tristan,” he spoke against her skin, moving his lips and teeth across her jawline. 

“I’m Anna,” she offered, practically writhing beneath his touch. 

“Nice to meet you, Anna.” He brought her wrist up to his mouth, fangs tracing little white lines over delicate skin before sinking deep into her flesh. 

She gasped as a sharp pain pierced through her skin, making her whole arm throb in a dull ache as he began drinking from her. She couldn’t believe what she was watching, what she was letting him do right in front of this bartender, but part of her still hoped this was only a dream. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, to focus only on his fingers moving under her shorts and underwear, but she couldn’t look away. His stare held hers, aquamarine and turquoise turning purple and green as he slid the cotton of her panties to the side and dove into her flesh. 

She cried out as his tongue lapped up the scarlet liquid that leaked out of her wrist, attempting to balance the pain with a little bit of pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. His eyes went dark as he swallowed his first gulp, holding her hand flush against his face as he continued to suck.

She winced as her blood began leaking out the sides of his mouth, his pupils erasing the brightness that once resided there. “Tristan,” she whispered, trying to find her breath. His fingers curled upward inside of her, hitting that bundle of nerves that made her forget about the pain for a second. She could feel what little strength she had left begin to leave her body, her life pouring out of her very veins and into his mouth. She watched her blood spill over his lips and move into his cheeks, painting them with a rosiness she hadn't seen before. “Tristan, stop!”

She pushed against his chest before watching him blink a couple of times, finally taking his mouth away as her blood pooled and dripped down her forearm. “Sorry,” he whispered, licking the last of the blood before it only oozed out of her.

She stared at him in disbelief, unable to process what had just happened. Did he really just suck her blood? Did she really just let him? How long had her friend been doing this behind closed doors? Why hadn’t she told her about it until now? Didn’t she trust her? 

“I shouldn’t have taken so much,” he told her, pulling his hand from between her legs. He kissed her wrist again, cleaning up the last bit of sanguineous drainage before grabbing something off the bar.

“Am I going to die now?” Was the only sentence she could form.

“No,” he shook his head and laughed, placing a square bandage on her wrist. “Of course not.” He released her hand from his face and set it in his lap. “I already told you, Myra comes in here all the time.”

“And she’s not a… she’s not like you,” Anna rationalized. “We had brunch together this morning.” She tried her best to keep up, but it was all too much to take in. 

“Exactly,” he smiled, her blood staining his lips.

“So, umm, I’m not going to turn into a…” God, she must sound like a five year-old. 

“No.” He leaned in close, brushing the apple of her cheek with his knuckles that still smelled of her arousal. “Not at all.” He parted her lips with his, kissing her as the taste of iron flooded her senses. “Not unless you want to.”


End file.
